


Come Into The Light

by Ribbons_Undone



Series: Dream World [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25333717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribbons_Undone/pseuds/Ribbons_Undone
Summary: Dean finally admits what he’s been too afraid to say to Cas, and to himself.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Dream World [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784737
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	Come Into The Light

* * *

_He tugged; the seal gave way. A little smoke_

_Curled like a feather in the darkening sky._

_A blinding gush of fire burst, flamed, and broke._

_A voice like a wind spoke._

…

_"O miserable one!_

_Thy prize awaits thee; come, and hug it close!"_

...

_I lay there, a black blot upon a shield_

_Of quivering, watery whiteness. The hush held_

_Until I staggered up and cried aloud,_

_And then it seemed that something far too great_

_For knowledge, and illimitable as God,_

_Rent the dark sky like lightning, and I fell,_

_And, falling, heard a wild and rushing wind_

_Of music, and saw lights that blinded me_

_With white, impenetrable swords, and felt_

_A pressure of soft hands upon my lips,_

_Upon my eyelids…_

\--Excerpt from _The Drug-Shop, or, Endymion in Edmonstoun_ by Stephen Vincent Benet

* * *

_Come Into the Light_

Dean opened his eyes to the familiar comforting blanket of his dreams. He smiled. The storm and weird lighting from before was gone and the world in his dreams looked normal. He was safe. He closed his eyes and reached out with his mind.

Cas appeared by him in an instant.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Dean greeted. The relief was evident in his voice.

“Yes, well…I was never very good at saying no to you,” Cas replied with a thin smile. He glanced around, taking in the bustle of people pressed in around them on the crowded sidewalk. “Where are we? I expected we would be meeting at the lake.”

“I figured we needed a change of scenery,” Dean said. He took a deep breath. “Hey, I’m sorry about last time. You were just trying to help and I was being an ass.”

“I’m not upset with you, Dean,” Cas replied. “Merely…disappointed.”

“Right, like that’s better,” Dean scoffed. He sighed. “Look, I know what I said, but I thought about it and I’m…ready to step things up if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t want you to do it for me,” Cas said. Dean nodded. He stepped in close to Cas and took his hands.

“I’m not,” Dean assured him, “You were right. What we’ve been doing…it’s not healthy. And you deserve better than that.” Dean raised a hand to Cas’s face, trailed his fingers over the angel’s cheek as he searched deep blue eyes for something he was almost too afraid to see. “I care about you, Cas. You know that, right?”

Cas nodded. “I feel…the same,” he said quietly, “And I am…pleased by your decision.” He looked around the street. “But I am confused. What are we doing here?”

“I thought we could celebrate,” Dean replied, “One last dream-date. What do you say?”

“That sounds…nice,” Cas said.

Dean was grinning at him, as if he knew something Cas didn’t.

He tugged Cas’s hand. “Come on, there’s a place not too far from here.”

They walked a short ways down the street and turned onto a block of mostly bars and clubs. There was a diner on the corner with a sign out front that read “TRY OUR FRESH BUNS”. The whole street was decorated with colorful flags and even more colorful people. A pair of drag queens dressed head to toe in bright-purple sequins sauntered by them. Castiel turned around to stare, fascinated by their beauty and confidence. Then Dean tugged his hand and gestured to a building a couple doors down.

A neon sign outside Dean’s establishment of choice flashed cool blue in the washed light of the streetlamps. Inside Cas could hear loud, thumping music and a cacophony of cheerful voices.

“What is this place?” he asked.

“It’s a club,” Dean replied, “Come on.”

He tugged Cas’s hand again and pulled him inside.

It was mostly men, and it was packed. Many were in some state of inebriation, and nearly all were dressed either in tight clothing or some form of nudity. A number of them glanced over when Dean walked through the door.

A few whistled, and one man was bold enough to step in close to Dean, placing a hand in the middle of his chest.

“Want to dance?” the man asked. He was dark-haired and looked like a model who obviously had some brains in his head as well as the well-endowed gift in his pants, unless the front of his pants were lying.

Dean just laughed. “Sorry, sweetheart, I’m spoken for.”

“Come on, you know you want to,” the man persisted. “Your brooding friend can join us, I don’t mind.” The man grinned at Cas and trailed a finger down the front of Dean’s shirt.

Cas stepped up close behind Dean and stared down the man touching him.

“He said he wasn’t interested,” Cas growled.

“Cas, you’re hovering,” Dean said gently. “Put the wings away, babe, he’s just leaving.”

“Your loss,” the man quipped, tossing his head.

“Doubt it,” Dean shot back with a sly grin.

The man merely smiled seductively at him and stalked away, back to the dance floor.

“I am not sure I like it here,” Cas said, watching him go. He was pressed in close to Dean as he scanned the crowd of horny, half-naked men. He glared at anyone who stared too long.

“Give it a chance,” Dean said. He turned and placed his arms around Cas’s neck. “Once they see we’re together, they’ll back off,” he promised. He slid his hands down and around the front of Cas’s neck and held his face, drawing him in for a slow kiss.

The din of the club fell away for a long moment.

It was back as soon as Dean pulled away, his green eyes smoky and dark like the underside of a forest.

“Besides,” he said, “I want to dance with you.”

“I suppose that could be…pleasant,” Cas replied.

“Drink first,” Dean said.

Dean pulled him to the bar, keeping hold of Cas’s hand so that he wouldn’t lose him in the crowd. He was groped by no less than five men along the way, and Cas had to shove a couple of them back. One had the audacity to come on to the angel, pressing in close and suddenly Cas understood what Dean meant by personal space.

“Ever been with a 10, sweetheart?” the man asked.

“Excuse me?” Cas said.

“Full ten, I swear,” the stranger gestured down at the front of his pants, then looked back up with a leer in his eyes. “Best fuck of your life.”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Dean stepped in, pushing the man back. “Go find somewhere else to stick it, huh?”

This one may have been cocky, but he seemed less pushy than the last vulture to circle in. The man shrugged and turned away.

“Jesus, it’s like all of them are me when I was 16,” Dean remarked. He dug in his pocket for a second and pulled out something small. “Guess I overestimated this place. I don’t want to have to beat these guys back all night, so desperate times and all that.”

He opened his hand. Resting in the palm of it were two thin bands of silver. He looked up at Cas, seeming almost shy about what he was about to suggest. 

“Will you be mine, Cas? Just for tonight?” Dean asked. He could feel a blush spread across his nose that he hoped the dark lighting would hide.

Cas’s breath caught.

“I am yours every night,” Castiel replied.

Dean blushed deeper and slid one of the rings onto his finger, twisting it into place. He was about to do the same for his own ring, but Cas caught his hand.

“Allow me,” the angel said softly.

Dean held his breath. Castiel found his eyes and searched them briefly. What he was looking for, Dean didn’t know, but the intensity of whatever they were trying to tell him made his heart bang against his chest. The terror that overcame him wasn’t altogether unpleasant either.

Cas took the ring between delicate fingers and slipped it over his knuckle. This time the look in his eyes was reverent—the same look he got when he was praying.

“Cas,” Dean said thickly.

Cas held his hand, staring down at the thin silver band. Dean let out his breath slowly, trying to control the feelings whirling around inside of him. The rings were just for show—just a farce to keep the men off of them for the night, but it didn’t feel that way when Cas lifted his hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his knuckles.

“It suits you,” Cas said softly.

Dean couldn’t contain himself any longer. He grabbed Cas by the back of the neck and pulled him in for a hard kiss, pushed lips and tongue into him with all the emotion exploding in his chest. The words themselves remained unsaid, but he hoped his actions spoke loud enough for Cas’s angelic ears to hear.

“Drink?” Dean asked when they pulled apart.

Cas didn’t much care to drink, but he nodded. After such a display of affection, he must know Dean needed the comfort of alcohol.

“Two,” Dean told the bartender, and because this was Dean and it was a dream, he didn’t need to say anything more than that.

The bartender slapped two glasses on the bar and poured a finger of their finest whisky into each.

Dean grabbed both glasses and handed one to Cas, raising it up in the air.

“Until we turn out the lights,” he said, clinking his glass against Castiel’s.

Dean downed the whiskey in one go and slapped the glass down on the bar with a satisfied “ _Ahh_.” His eyes widened a little at the quality of the drink, and motioned the bartender to fill him back up. He took his time this round, sipping at the fine, smoky liquor as he leaned back against the bar. The ring, out of the corner of his eye gleamed in the flashing lights, and something warm spread under Dean’s chest that he wasn’t entirely convinced was the alcohol.

He watched as Cas took a tentative sip of whiskey and then scrunched up his nose. The angel looked into the dark amber liquid as if the drink had offended him and then set it down on the bar, pushing it toward Dean.

“I think I’ll stick with water,” Cas said, motioning to the bartender. Dean laughed and poured the rest of Cas’s drink into his to consolidate.

The music changed suddenly to something eighties and upbeat and Dean set his drink down. He grabbed Cas by the arm.

“Come on,” he said, “I want to dance.”

Cas allowed Dean to lead him into the middle of the dance floor. It was crowded with undulating, grinding and sweaty men, but there was a perfect spot right in the center for them. They slipped into it and Dean pressed close to Cas, looping his arms around his neck as he moved his hips.

“I don’t—what am I supposed to do?” Cas yelled over the din of the music.

Dean flashed a smile at him, took his hands and placed them on his hips. His own he returned behind Cas’s neck.

“Think ‘sex,’ only vertical,” Dean told him, shouting into his ear.

“I’m not sure that would be appropriate!” Cas shouted back. Dean rolled his eyes and laughed.

“Just move with me,” he replied.

He pulled Cas’s hips in close to his and ground against them, moving to the beat of the music. After a few minutes of swaying and grinding and bopping, Cas seemed to catch on, though his sense of rhythm needed serious work. It seemed whatever beat the music moved at, Cas moved the exact opposite. After a while, Dean gave up trying to get him to keep the tempo and they danced to their own song, moving their hips together as one, a back-and-forth play of bodies that knew one another well.

It was practically foreplay, and it was getting Dean hard.

Cas’s hands were at his hips, fingers brushing up under his tee. Dean tugged it off and tucked it into his waistband like some strange form of capture the flag and continued to move with the music. He guided Cas’s hands to his ass and pressed up close to him, bare chest rubbing against the ridiculous amount of layers his partner wore. He reached behind Cas and tugged the tails of his shirt out of Castiel’s pants and ran his hands up underneath his back, needing to feel him skin on skin, then slid them across the sides of his ribs and around to his smooth stomach.

Castiel’s hands came up to grasp the back of his neck. Dean tucked two fingers under his waistband in the front and pulled him closer, grinding his hips up against Cas as the music changed to yet another heart-thumping techno-hit. He covered Cas’s mouth with his and kissed him hungrily, one hand hooked in the front of his pants to keep them pressed firmly together, the other cupping his cheek.

He kissed Cas deep and hungrily, licking into his mouth and sucking on his bottom lip—caught it between his teeth and pulled back slightly before diving back in with his tongue. He felt Cas’s groan deep in his throat as the angel responded eagerly to the kiss.

Dean slid his hand down the front of his pants, feeling him through the thin fabric. He felt rather than heard Cas’s breath hitch as his palm folded around him. He squeezed firmly, rubbing slowly with his thumb as he pressed their lips together and rolled his tongue around the inside of Cas’s warm, wet mouth.

When he broke away, Castiel’s eyes were dark with lust. He grabbed Dean by the ass and pulled Dean flush against his body.

“You are…infuriatingly arousing,” Cas growled, kissing him fiercely.

Dean merely hummed his satisfaction and kissed him back, running his hands up and under Cas’s long, tan coat. It billowed out around them, providing a level of privacy that was somehow tantalizingly hot. He grabbed one of Cas’s hands and guided it down the front of his jeans. He rolled his hips and groaned into Cas’s mouth as his palm hit just the right spot.

Cas’s lips broke away briefly. He took in a sharp inhale as Dean rubbed against him again and then he dove back in, mouth capturing Dean’s bottom lip and sucking at it before slipping his tongue inside. His hands slipped over the front of Dean’s pants.

It was dirty and public and _wrong_ —but it was also a dream and therefore perfectly acceptable. Cas rubbed against his jeans and he teased Cas through the fabric of his pants until he could feel a wet patch under his thumb.

His breathing doubled and he pressed closer to Cas, nearly there.

Then Castiel pulled back and stilled his hand.

“Dean, what I want to do to you…” Cas said huskily, “It would not be appropriate in this setting. Can we please finish this somewhere else?”

“The lake?” Dean suggested.

“I was thinking…the motel.”

Dean grinned at him.

“Yeah, okay. The address is…”

He leaned in close to Cas’s ear to tell him. As soon as he rattled it off, Cas gripped him by the shoulder and they disappeared.

They reappeared in the motel room, the same Dean was staying at that night in the real world. Sam was nowhere to be found, but this was a dream, so of course his brother wasn’t here to cock-block them.

Cas crowded against him in the blink of an eye and a flurry of wings and pushed Dean onto the bed.

“I much prefer this form of dancing,” Cas said with a gleam in his eyes as he lowered himself on top of Dean.

Dean snorted a little at that but stopped him momentarily.

“If I wake up, come find me,” he said.

Cas nodded and slid inside of him, rocking him in a steady motion, a long crescendo of pain and pleasure and soft, intimate impressions of lips and teeth and tongue.

Dean came suddenly and unexpectedly, crying out into the dim light of the motel room.

Cas followed him moments later, slamming the hand with the ring against the headboard and swooping in low to murmur in Dean’s ear.

“You are mine, Dean,” Castiel said, and with a shudder wrapped Dean up in his embrace. “Always, mine.”

Dean awoke to the first rays of the sun poking through the blinds of the motel room. A comforting weight was pressed up against his back, an arm looped around his chest. Cas must have arrived after the dream had ended the night before and climbed into bed with him. It was the first time they had been together like this in the real world, and something about waking up to Cas spooning him made Dean’s heart beat a little faster.

Then he remembered last night and the rings, and his heart stuttered a loud _tha-thump_ against his ribcage.

A pair of warm lips pressed into the space between his shoulder blades.

“Good morning,” Cas said. His voice was husky from the many hours of disuse.

Dean rolled over, careful not to sock him in the nose with an elbow and found Cas’s eyes.

“Morning,” he greeted with a smile.

Cas leaned in for a kiss, and the gentle warmth of it had Dean hard in seconds.

There was the jingle of keys outside the motel door and suddenly they weren’t alone. Sam stepped into the room, carrying a bag of take out and looking like he hadn’t slept all night.

Dean bolted upright in bed.

“Guess you’re feeling better if you’re bringing girls back to the —” Sam started to say.

Then Cas’s face peeked out from behind Dean’s shoulder and he nearly dropped the food.

“Cas!?”

Sam stared in shock for a long moment and then—to his credit—stepped fully into the room and closed the door.

“Uh, hey Sammy,” Dean greeted, rubbing at the back of his head. “How was the hunt?”

Sam dumped the food on the table and fumed at him silently for a long minute before answering him. “Shitty. It went shitty, Dean,” he replied. “But I see _you_ had a good time last night.”

“Hello Sam,” Castiel greeted.

“Hey Cas,” Sam returned, as if the angel had done nothing to deserve his contempt, and that just wasn’t _fair_. His attention snapped back to Dean. “Explain. Now,” Sam demanded.

“It’s, uh, exactly as it looks,” Dean said.

“So you two are…what? Together?” Sam clarified.

“Uh…” Dean glanced back at Cas, who nodded. “Uh, yeah, I guess we are.”

“You _guess_?” Sam blurted in outrage. “Were you even going to tell me, Dean?” Sam’s voice dropped, and he sounded a little hurt.

“Yes, Sammy, I was. Today in fact, except things didn’t exactly go as planned,” Dean replied.

“He’s telling the truth, Sam,” Castiel assured him.

“How long?” Sam asked. He clenched his jaw.

“Does it matter?” Dean asked, feeling his face heat up under the weight of his question. “I was going to tell you, Sam. I just wasn’t ready until now.”

“So at Bobby’s—”

“I wished for him to tell you then, but he refused,” Cas explained. “I tried, Sam.”

“Look, it’s no big deal,” Dean said. “So we’re…we’re together or whatever. Who cares?”

“Is it serious?” Sam asked. His eyes flitted down to Cas’s hand, which had settled atop Dean’s left shoulder.

“So what if it is?” Dean replied. His tone challenged Sam to make a fuss over it.

Sam sighed, his anger draining away. “Well hey, man, I don’t care who you mash genitals with, long as you’re happy.”

Well hell, that wasn’t the response he expected.

Dean let out a cough of surprised laughter. He felt Cas go stiff as a rail behind him, probably wishing it were possible to die of embarrassment. Dean would kill to see the look on the angel’s face right about now.

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean said instead, grinning up at his little brother.

“Yeah, you’re welcome.”

Sam shifted his weight from one foot to another, suddenly uncomfortable.

“Ok, I’m going back out to the car. Meet me out there when you’re ready and we’ll grab some breakfast.”

“What about the take out?” Dean asked, pointing to the two perfectly good bags of food sitting on the table.

“I didn’t get enough for three,” Sam said. “Besides, this kind of news deserves celebrating.”

Sam flashed the two of them a little smile before turning to leave.

“Don’t take too long. I’m hungry.”

With that said, Sam closed the door behind him, leaving the new couple to themselves.

“Well, that wasn’t exactly how I planned this going,” Dean said once he was gone.

Cas slipped an arm around his torso and pulled him back against his chest.

“How long do we have before Sam gets upset?” Castiel asked.

“Ten minutes. Tops,” Dean said. He let his breath out in a rush. “I need a shower, and so do you. Come on, we’ll conserve water.”

He didn’t even try to keep the innuendo out of his voice.

They stumbled into the bathroom, kissing each other and laughing as they tripped over their own feet. There was a lightness in Dean’s chest that hadn’t been there the night before, and he had to guess it had something to do with his brother’s approval. Not that he’d been worried about it but—okay, maybe he’d been a _little_ worried. It felt good knowing he had Sam’s support behind them, made him believe that maybe he could do this after all.

He kissed Cas long and deep at that thought.

Something flashed in the corner of Dean’s eye as he pulled back. He caught Cas’s hand and stared in shock—nestled around his finger was the same small band of silver from the night before.

“The ring,” Dean said, brain not functioning properly. “You kept it. How?”

“Because I wanted to,” Castiel replied. It didn’t exactly explain the physics of the situation, but it was a damn good answer. “I have yours if you want it,” Cas continued. He dug into the pocket of his pants, which were folded atop the toilet seat, and returned with the matching silver band between his thumb and forefinger.

Dean held out his hand, holding his breath as Cas slipped the ring on his finger for the second time in the last 12 hours.

“Cas, I don’t know what…” Dean cleared his throat a little painfully. “Thanks.”

He couldn’t do anything but stare down at the ring for a long minute. He felt like he should say something to mark this momentous event, but nothing came to mind.

Dean laughed a little nervously. “Are we really doing this?” he asked.

“We don’t have to if you’re not ready,” Cas said gently. The angel’s hand was pressed into the small of his back, his fingers doodling against the flushed, bare flesh.

“No, I…I want to,” Dean replied forcefully.

“I meant what I said last night,” Cas told him. His hand came up to cradle the side of Dean’s face. Blue eyes found his before he continued in a low, hush voice. “You are mine, Dean, and I am yours.”

Dean didn’t know what to say to that. The possessive nature of it—normally that would make him uncomfortable, but with Cas—he found it didn’t really bother him.

He pulled Castiel in for a long kiss. His ring hand settled over the middle of Cas’s chest, the tips of his fingers brushing against his skin and the soft curls of hair.

“We shouldn’t keep Sam waiting,” Cas murmured when he pulled back.

“Screw him,” Dean replied. He turned on the water and guided Cas backward into the shower.

It was more like half an hour by the time they joined Sam out at the car, but thankfully Sam didn’t seem too pissed.

“You’re paying,” was all Sam said, throwing the car into gear.

Dean couldn’t stop looking at the ring on his finger the entire time it took to get to the diner. Cas rode in the back seat, and at one point he reached forward and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder—possessive again, like he couldn’t bare not to be touching him. Dean covered it with his own and continued to stare down at the one resting on his left leg.

When they arrived Cas took the first opportunity to slip his hand into Dean’s. Dean caught his eyes, and the adoration shining out from them made his stomach flop.

Sam snorted a little as he came around the car and saw them making eyes at one another.

“You’re like two lovesick teens,” he teased, dancing around them to open the door to the diner.

Dean ordered a round of blueberry pie for them for breakfast. They were celebrating, after all.

Cas stuck around afterward. Typically he would have disappeared by now, but for once the angel seemed to be in no hurry to go anywhere. Dean was happy for it. They still had the job they were working, and the son-of-a-bitch monster they were after was being annoyingly elusive. All they had was a string of disappearances to go on—which could be one of a dozen things—and no leads. They could use all the help they could get, and if he was being honest, Dean didn’t want Castiel to go anywhere. He wanted Cas here with him. Indefinitely.

Sam let them off the hook for that night’s research session (what was he, their _mother_?) so that they could spend some quality time together. How he knew they needed it, Dean wasn’t sure, but if Sam had noticed the rings he hadn’t said anything. 

Dean hopped in the car and took them to the nearest drive-through theater, where they sat on the hood of the Impala sharing a large basin of popcorn and a six pack of beer, watching some movie about zombies.

When Cas set his bottle down and took the popcorn from him to lean in for a kiss, Dean had to admit that the real world had just as much to offer as his dreams. He carded his hand through Cas’s hair and kissed him slow but eager.

They didn’t get to see the end of the movie, but it was just as well.

Engines revved around them and cars rolled in a slow line out of the open field, the movie patrons leaving the scene now that the last show was over—back to their houses and two-point-four children and weird little dogs with names such as _Scrappy_ and _Pebbles_. Cas and Dean stayed where they were long after the lights went out, having no home or family to return to—besides Sam, who didn’t expect them back until late.

They were stretched out on the hood of the car—a blanket thrown down under them so as not to scratch Dean’s baby—Cas’s hand entwined in his and their bodies pressed close. Above them—in some nameless field in the middle of nowhere—the stars dazzled overhead and the Milky Way streaked across the sky.

“Dean?” Castiel murmured, casting his voice low so as not to spoil the tranquility of the moment.

“Yeah, Cas?” Dean responded in kind.

“Thank you for giving us a chance. This evening has been very pleasant.”

“Yeah, well…” Dean felt a blush rise across his face and was grateful it was too dark for Cas to see. “Thanks for not giving up on me.”

“I could never do that,” Cas replied. The angel shifted to his side and raised a hand to Dean’s cheek. “I love you, Dean.”

Dean’s breath caught in his chest. He tensed a little at the admission, then breathed out and relaxed into Castiel’s touch.

“I love you too, Cas,” he murmured.

Castiel’s lips found his in the dark and Dean pulled him in, wanting to wrap his mind around the perfection of the moment—every scent and soft moan and caress of lips and fingers into the tiny fold of time stretching between them.

They made love under the stars, and the light dew that fell late into the night mingled in with their sweat.

The next day was spent hunting down leads to their creepy crawly, talking to townsfolk and attempting to charm them out of their secrets just in case it involved whatever was snatching people in the dark of night—but to no avail. The creature was elusive as ever, keeping things low-key enough to raise only minor alarms from local law enforcement.

They were currently interviewing the fiancé of one of the victims—some blonde pretty thing that Dean at one point might have been interested in. Now in just under two days he was practically _married to an angel of the lord_.

What a crazy fucking life.

“Did you notice anything strange the day before your fiancé disappeared?” Sam was asking the girl. She was sniffling into a tissue. Sam was on the couch with her, pen and pad in hand.

“I don’t know…it’s not something you think about until…after, you know?” the girl was saying. “B-but I think—there was this…man. A couple days before Alan went missing. He looked pretty normal but he had these…tattoos. I know I shouldn’t judge, but there was something about him that just kinda…”

“Gave you the creeps?” Dean finished for her. The girl nodded, wide-eyed.

“C-could it be—do you think he could have taken him?” the girl asked. Jasmine. Her name was Jasmine. Dean thought it was, anyway. “Why would he even do that? What could he want with Alan?”

“We have no way of knowing until we can track him down,” Sam told her, “Do you think you can describe him for me?”

Dean tuned out the conversation as his attention was drawn to the angel standing on the opposite side of the room. Cas was looking at a picture on the mantelpiece, his brow furrowed and contemplative.

Dean stepped up behind him to see what he was looking at. It was a picture of Jasmine and her missing fiancé.

“They seem happy,” Castiel murmured. His fingertips brushed against the smiling couple in the picture.

Dean nodded. He pressed a comforting hand to the small of Castiel’s back, the gesture subtle enough to go unnoticed amidst present company.

“We’ll find him,” Dean said. It was an empty promise—for all they knew the guy could be dead already, but they were words Dean felt Cas needed to hear. Sometimes walking among humans for too long got to him.

Their sleuthing paid off—someone thought they saw the guy Jasmine had described in an old abandoned mill by the river. They drove by, noting the collection of ‘No Trespassing’ signs tacked against the fence outside. There were no clear signs of activity so they decided to wait the few hours until dark and then went in under the cover of night.

Dean could sense something was off almost as soon as they stepped through the creaky, termite-ridden door. He scrunched up his nose at the large depository of rat droppings scattered across the floor.

“Not exactly the Taj Mahal,” Dean muttered sarcastically, “Why can’t it ever be someplace nice?”

“All the good evil lairs must be booked,” Sam joked, keeping his voice low.

They reached a split in the hallway. A set of worn concrete stairs leading to the lower level faded into shadow. Another set rose to the second floor.

“I’ll check upstairs,” Cas said. He disappeared in a blink of the eye.

“Dibs on not the creepy basement,” Dean said.

Sam shot him a look that said he was clearly not happy.

“Fine,” his brother said regardless, making for the staircase.

Dean continued down the hall, inching his way along the dreary corridor with his gun raised in defense.

There was a scuffle behind him and he whirled around, finger ready on the trigger. He nearly fired until he caught the familiar flap of tan coattails.

“ _Cas!_ ” Dean whispered shrilly, “Jesus, I almost shot you.” Dean lowered the weapon, trying to calm his pounding heart. “I thought you were checking upstairs,” he said.

“I finished,” Cas replied.

Dean nodded. Seemed about right.

“Alright, come on. We’ve still got some ground to cover,” Dean said.

He turned back to the dark expanse of hallway. His flashlight cut a dim beam of light through the black. There was another junction up ahead by the looks of things. Dean approached it cautiously.

Something was there the second he rounded the corner—something large swinging something heavy.

“Dean, watch out!”

Castiel’s warning came a second too late.

Dean went down hard, his ears ringing. Cas’s face was suddenly very close to his. He was saying something, but the words were muffled. He thought he caught the words _“Thank God,”_ and _“alive.”_

Then, suddenly, he could hear again.

“Dean!”

“Cas?” Dean blinked. “What happened to the… _thing_ that attacked me?” he asked.

“It ran off. I will deal with it shortly,” Cas said. There was a murderous gleam in his eyes.

“Did you get a look at what it was?” Dean asked. Perhaps if they knew what they were up against they might stand a better chance, but Castiel merely shook his head. “Damn.”

_“Cas! Help, Cas, I can’t wake him up!”_

The echo of Sam’s voice came from somewhere deep within the walls of the old mill.

“Sammy,” Dean mumbled. His brother must have found Jasmine’s fiancé. “Cas, go help him.”

Dean tried to get up, but his limbs didn’t seem to be cooperating. His vision swirled around him.

“My concern is with you at the moment,” Cas replied, “How are you feeling?” The angel’s brow was pinched together in worry.

“My head’s a little…” Dean shook his head, trying to stave off the feeling of cotton in his ears.

“Dean, you have to stay awake. Don’t leave me, Dean.” The angel gripped him by the front of his shirts.

Dean let out a weak laugh and allowed his head droop back to the floor. “Never, babe,” he said. He closed his eyes…

_“Dean, wake up.”_

“Cas?” Confused, Dean lifted his head back up. He was still on the ground, and seemed to have blacked out for a moment. Maybe the thing that attacked him had hit him harder than he thought.

 _“If he doesn’t wake up soon, he’ll…”_ Sam’s voice came from somewhere in the room, but Dean couldn’t see him in the dim light.

Dean’s vision swirled around him, the ceiling suddenly looming closer.

_“It won’t come to that. I think I know of a way to pull him out of it.”_

“Pull who out of what?” Dean mumbled. “Cas? What are you guys talking about?”

Castiel’s face was suddenly in his line of vision, gripping Dean by the sides of his head.

“Stay with me Dean!” he pleaded.

“I’m right here, Cas. I’m not going anywhere,” Dean promised.

_“Dean. Dean, wake up.”_

Another Castiel appeared suddenly behind the version of Cas who was holding his face in his hands.

“What the hell?” Dean slurred.

Dean struggled to sit up, swiveling his pounding head— _god his head_ —from one Cas to the other. His—the one kneeling on the ground next to him, the ring around his finger—and the Cas who stood behind him with sad, fearful eyes.

_“It isn’t real. Dean, you have to wake up.”_

“What do you mean it isn’t real?” Dean asked the doppelganger.

_“You’re dreaming.”_

“No, Dean, he’s lying. It’s a trick,” his Cas was saying. “It’s the creature that attacked you.”

 _“Dean, please._ ”

The other Cas moved closer, kneeling down next to him. Dean tried to scoot away but his body was still not cooperating. The Cas impersonator placed a warm hand against Dean’s cheek.

_“Come back to me, Dean.”_

He didn’t feel like an imposter. Dean closed his eyes briefly, leaning into his touch.

Dean’s eyes snapped back open a second later, realizing what had just happened. He was letting the creature lull him into its trap.

“Get off me,” he bit out. This time when he tried to move, his body listened. He raised a hand and slapped away the Cas-imposter’s hand.

 _“Please, Dean,”_ fake Castiel pleaded. Dean stared into swimming blue eyes. God, but he didn’t _sound_ like an imposter either.

“Don’t listen to him,” the other Cas said, tugging at his hand. It was just as warm as the other Castiel’s had been.

Dean looked between them, mouth open.

“How the fuck am I supposed to—” Dean started, but both angels interrupted him.

_“Don’t think about it, Dean. Feel it. Follow my voice.”_

“It’s us, Dean, you know it’s us.”

Dean covered his ears with his hands and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Shut up, both of you!” he snapped.

Cas’s voice filtered in under his hands.

_“He’s not responding. Do you trust me, Sam?”_

_“Yes, Cas—whatever you’re going to do, just do it already!”_

Dean felt soft fingers on his cheek and pale lips press against his. Something—a feeling from deep within him—tugged at his subconscious. Cas and his doppelganger dissolved into white mist and he floated amid the place between waking and dreaming, following the feeling of home and safety that seemed to be dragging him upward, into the light.

Cas moved his lips against Dean’s and willed him to wake.

“Cas!?” Sam blurted, shocked by what he was seeing. Even more so because it seemed to be working. Cas ignored him and focused on drawing Dean’s consciousness back through his touch.

“Dean,” Cas murmured against him, “Come back to me.”

Cas kissed him again—deeper, more urgently—in a desperate attempt to rouse his dreaming lover.

Finally, after several long moments, Dean breathed in and his lips moved a little against Cas’s in response to the kiss. Cas pulled back just as his green eyes fluttered open.

“Cas?” Dean mumbled. He felt drowsy and disorientated. His arms were raised above his head—tied to the ceiling if he had to bet, and his head felt like an elephant had danced over it.

Cas breathed out, relief washing over him. He gave quiet thanks to God.

“Welcome back,” the angel greeted with a weary smile.

“What happened?” Dean asked. If Cas was here, kissing him, then— “Am I dreaming?” he asked. He leaned in to Cas, searching his deep blue eyes.

Cas shook his head.

“A djinn had you under its spell,” Castiel replied.

“How the hell…?” Dean murmured, confused. He furrowed his brow, trying to piece it all together through the stabbing headache. He vaguely remembered leaving the motel room to join Sam on the hunt. “So then…the club?”

“I don’t know to what you’re referring,” Cas said.

“Oh.” Dean looked down at Cas’s hand, where he remembered seeing a small silver band. “Not one of ours, then.” A sense of sadness overtook him.

“I am afraid not.”

Dean fell silent. Cas cut him down from the ceiling and caught him as he nearly collapsed to the floor. God, but he was so tired… Cas slipped an arm around him and he leaned heavily against the angel, shooting Cas a grateful smile.

Sam, who had been waiting patiently since Dean awoke, couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Dean, what the hell?” Sam demanded.

“Not now, Sam,” Dean said. He was so, _so_ tired. “How long was I out?”

“Not more than a few hours,” Sam replied.

“Felt like days...” Dean replied. He glanced off to the side, where the body of the creature who had captured him lay lifeless, a bloodied silver knife sticking out of its chest. “Shit, I don’t even remember it getting the jump on me,” he said.

“Dean—” Sam started again, but his brother held up a hand.

“Can we get out of here before the twenty questions?” Dean asked, “Please? I’m exhausted.”

Cas was silent as they made their way to the car—Cas practically carrying him—and Dean was glad he wasn’t taking the opportunity to say _I told you so_ , although he wasn’t really the type. He helped Dean into the back seat and then scooted in beside him, holding Dean close to him as if he were worried Dean might disappear.

“Cas, I’m fine, really,” Dean sighed. He rested his head on the angel’s shoulder and squeezed his hand. “No need to hover, babe.”

Sam glanced up in the rear-view to watch them. By now he had put enough of the pieces together to come to a reasonable conclusion.

“So are you dating or just sleeping together?” he asked, barely able to contain himself. Dean sighed. No rest for the wicked and all that.

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” he said. He had an uncanny sense of déjà vu. “I was going to tell you.”

“Tell me _what_ , exactly?” Sam asked.

“We’ve been…meeting up in my dreams,” Dean replied.

Sam swore loudly and punched the steering wheel. Dean had just enough energy to yell “Hey!” at him for abusing his baby.

“So that time at Bobby’s?” Sam asked, ignoring him.

“We lied to you, yes,” Castiel replied for him.

God, but all he wanted to do was _sleep…_

“I didn’t lie,” Dean said in a short, clipped tone, “I just didn’t tell you. I would have, when the time was right.”

“And the right time was almost becoming djinn chow?” Sam reprimanded.

Dean sighed.

“Dean, if you had told me, you probably wouldn’t have gotten trapped by that thing. Why didn’t you just say something? You know I’ve got your back in anything, man.”

“I know.”

“And you know Bobby’s gonna love you no matter what,” Sam added.

Dean smiled a little. In hindsight, he’d done a lot worse than fall in love with an angel of the Lord.

“It wasn’t about that, Sammy,” he said. Dean closed his eyes against the weariness in his bones. All this heart-to-heart was sapping what little strength he had left.

“Then what was it?” Sam asked. He seemed genuinely perplexed.

“It’s hard to explain…” Dean trailed off. No matter what he was going to sound like a coward and he hated it. “Dreams are…safe. Predictable. The real world is…fucked up and messy. If I told you I would have had to face that.”

“Dumbass,” Sam snorted. Dean stiffened, even though he knew Sam was joking.

Cas hugged him closer, feeling Dean’s need for reassurance.

“Fear does not always make sense,” Cas said quietly.

“No, I guess not,” Dean murmured back. He let out a small sigh. “I’m sorry, Cas. You were right and I should have listened to you.”

“You do not need to apologize to me, Dean,” Cas said.

“Yeah, I do. I was an ass and you deserved better than that.”

Dean could feel Sam watching them. It made him a little uncomfortable, and perhaps Sam felt the same because he suddenly looked away and shifted in the driver’s seat.

“We’d better get you back to the motel,” his brother said, cranking over the engine.

\---

When they arrived back at the motel, Cas helped him inside and set him down on the bed. He pressed a bottle of water into Dean’s hand, which Dean drank thirstily. He could feel the djinn’s poison slowly draining away.

Cas pushed him back to the bed and wrapped him up in the circle of his arms. Dean let out a sigh and relaxed into him, trying to ease some of the tension in his weary body.

Even though he was exhausted more that he could ever remember being, Dean fought the sleep dragging at him. Despite his best efforts, he kept nodding off. Every time he did, he jerked awake, afraid of losing himself again to his dreams—afraid of being swallowed up by a lie.

The third time it happened, Cas pressed his lips to his brow and pulled him closer into the fold of his arms.

“Sleep,” the angel murmured, “I will watch over you.”

So Dean did, closing his eyes with a sigh and finally allowing himself to drift into unconsciousness.

When he woke, Cas had his arms wrapped around him and was looking down into his eyes.

“Am I dreaming?” was the first thing out of Dean’s mouth. He could remember waking up just like this two days ago.

Dean grabbed Cas’s hand to check. The ring on his finger was gone. He sighed and let it go.

“Guess not,” he said, answering his own question.

Which meant besides the night before, the last time he saw Castiel for real was at Bobby’s when Cas left him with his glaring ultimatum. Other than the quick apology Dean had given him the night before, they had never patched things up, and he wasn’t sure that counted considering he’d been half-drugged with djinn poison at the time.

He still couldn’t believe the last two days never happened. It had felt so _real_. But in this version of reality he had never told Cas that he was ready to give them a chance. They had never danced at the club or exchanged rings or shared a wonderful night under the stars, and Cas had never—

Dean sat up abruptly, untangling himself from Cas’s embrace.

“Dean, what is it?” Castiel asked.

“It’s nothing,” Dean replied.

“Dean. Tell me. What happened when you were under the djinn’s spell?” Castiel asked, sitting up beside him.

Dean ran a hand over his face. He peered sideways at Cas, wondering how much of a wreck he looked like because if it was anything close to how he felt he must look like he’d gotten the shit beat out of him. He sighed again and looked away.

“Nothing happened,” Dean said after a long minute, “It was just another dream.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I need a shower.”

“Dean,” Cas called softly.

“Drop it, Cas.”

Dean ignored the look in the angel’s eyes and closed the bathroom door. He stood under the spray of the shower for a long time, letting the water wash away everything that had happened in the two blissful days he had spent with Castiel.

 _It wasn’t Cas_ , Dean reminded himself. The djinn’s spell had felt so real—he thought they’d been together. He thought—

But no, it had all been a dream—his subconscious playing out hidden fantasies.

What a fucking joke.

The loss of it hurt a hell of a lot more than he had expected it would. In this world Cas and him were still in the middle of an argument, and Dean honestly didn’t know where to begin to pick up the pieces. He could barely get a grip on his own frayed reality.

Dean sighed and turned off the water. It had gone cold anyway.

Castiel was waiting for him when he emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. The angel was sitting on the bed, seeming deep in thought. He looked up when Dean entered the room and rose to his feet.

“How was the shower?” Cas asked, stepping in close. The heat and moisture still rose from Dean’s skin.

“Fine,” Dean replied. He chanced a look up into Castiel’s bottomless blue eyes. They were dark and intense with desire.

“Sam went out,” Cas said simply. He reached for the edge of the towel.

Dean caught his hand. He hesitated, glancing uncertainly at Cas.

“Cas, I—” Dean swallowed. The ache in his chest pressed against his ribcage, making it hard to breathe. “I need some time to think.”

Cas stepped away and pulled his hand free. “I will leave you to your ruminations,” he said politely.

There was a flurry of wings and then he was gone.

Dean sighed. Much as he wanted to crawl back under the covers and die there, he really should get dressed and at least attempt to face today.

Sam came back to the motel just as he was stuffing his wallet into his pocket. 

“Hey, I filled up the car,” Sam said in greeting. He tossed the keys to Dean. “You feeling any better?”

“Yeah, fine,” Dean replied. He grabbed his jacket from the bed and shrugged it on.

“There’s a diner not too far from here,” Sam said. “I passed it on the way. Why don’t we go grab some grub and celebrate?”

Dean’s face hardened in an instant.

“Celebrate what, exactly?” he asked.

“Well, you know, you and Cas um…” Sam trailed off, finally noticing the tension in the air. “Where’s Cas?”

“Left,” Dean replied shortly.

“Ok, so just the two of us then,” Sam pressed.

“I’m not hungry,” he said.

“You’re always hungry,” Sam snorted, “Plus they have pie. I checked.”

Dean brushed past Sam on his way out the door.

“I said I wasn’t hungry.”

Any other day Dean would have laughed out loud at the funny little twitch Sam’s face made when he said he wasn’t in the mood for _pie_. Dean not in the mood for pie meant apocalyptic-scale events were about to rain hellfire down upon them.

Except…the last time he’d eaten pie was with Cas and Sam at the diner in his dreams, celebrating their newly established relationship. It wasn’t like that this time. Dean wasn’t sure _what_ they were to each other anymore.

And he _really_ didn’t feel like reliving his fantasy here in the real world. It felt wrong somehow, cheapened by the memories of the dream.

He was all turned around and he had no idea which way was up—what was real, and what was just his subconscious playing him for a fool. He needed time to straighten things out.

Dean hopped in the car pulled out of the parking lot with no clear destination in mind. Sometimes a man just needed to drive—feel the wind against his face and hear the purr of the engine under him to know that he was truly alive.

When he got back to the hotel, Dean popped the hood to the Impala and grabbed his tools from the backseat. It had been riding a little rough all morning and Dean realized it had been a while since he gave his baby a tune-up.

He was still at it when Sam came back from—wherever the hell he had gone. Dean didn’t ask. Sam dropped an open beer as a peace offering next to Dean and leaned up against the car.

“You were gone for a while,” he said.

Dean grunted. He ignored the beer, twisting the ratchet in his hand and focusing on getting a stubborn bolt loose.

“I noticed Cas still isn’t back,” Sam continued, crossing his arms.

“I’m sure he’ll turn up at some point,” Dean replied.

“You didn’t ask him when he’d be back?” Sam furrowed his brow.

“I’m not his fucking keeper, Sammy,” Dean replied. The bolt came loose suddenly and he reached in to twist it the rest of the way off.

“Did something happen between you two?” Sam asked.

“Nothing happened,” Dean bit back.

“You seemed pretty cozy last night.”

“Last night I was tripping on djinn juice,” Dean pointed out angrily.

“So something did happen,” Sam concluded.

“No, Sam, _nothing_ happened,” Dean said forcefully. He didn’t feel like explaining to his brother how it was he was telling the truth.

“Dean, I know you well enough to know when something is up,” Sam said. He let out a little huff. “I mean, if you weren’t worried about what I would think about you and Cas, then what, Dean? I can see you pushing him away and if you like him as much as I suspect then why? It doesn’t make any sense, man.”

“Shut up, Sam, you don’t know a goddamn thing,” Dean bit back. He leaned over the engine, resting his forearms on the outer frame of the hood.

“He cares about you,” Sam said quietly. “You’d have to be blind not to notice it.”

“No kidding,” Dean retorted, “Guess that makes _you_ Jeff Healey.”

Sam let out an exasperated sigh.

“I don’t get it,” he said. “You’re acting like you’ve lost him.”

“Yeah, well…” Dean sucked in a breath, but the winded feeling in his chest remained. “Maybe I have.”

Sam frowned at that. He pushed off the side of the car and made to leave. Before he did, he laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“This is about the djinn’s spell, isn’t it?” Sam sighed. “Just talk to him, Dean. It’s Cas. He’ll understand.”

Dean turned his head to reply but couldn’t think of anything to say. He kept his eyes low, unable to look his brother in the eyes.

Sam patted him on the shoulder and walked back to the room, leaving him alone out in the parking lot.

Dean placed a hand on the rim of the hood. For once in his life he wasn’t in the mood to work on his baby, but he really ought to put her back together before calling it a day—just in case they had to leave in a hurry.

Dean sighed and picked up the ratchet again, swiping at his face.

Damn it all. Was he really letting Sam’s little speech get to him like this?

He heard footsteps approaching and cursed under his breath, turning his head away to hide the handful of tears that slid mutinously down his face.

“Sam, would you fuck off and leave me be for once?” he snapped angrily. Last thing he needed was for his brother to catch him _crying_ like a little girl.

A gentle hand rested on his shoulder.

Shit.

“Dean,” said a soft, gravelly voice.

Double shit.

“Cas—”

Dean shrugged him off and refused to look at him.

“Sam called for me. He said I should come talk to you,” Cas said.

“Of course he did.”

Dean wiped at his face with the sleeve of his tee, hoping it would look like he was mopping the sweat from his brow.

“Cas, dunno if you can tell but I’m really not in the mood to talk right now,” Dean bit out.

“Then listen,” Castiel said. His hand came up again to rest on Dean’s shoulder. Dean looked down at it, then somehow worked up the courage to turn around and finally face him. Castiel gazed at him with blue eyes filled with an otherworldly intensity. “It wasn’t my intention to force things out into the open and for Sam to find out about us the way he did. It was the only way to break the djinn’s spell.”

“I know, Cas,” Dean replied, his breath catching a little in his throat.

“I shouldn’t have made advances this morning before knowing where you stand. I assumed your apology last night meant you were ready to pursue a relationship. It seems I was mistaken.”

“Cas…” Dean glanced up at him, then looked away. He sighed. “It isn’t…it’s not about that, Cas,” he said. “I want this. I do. I just…can’t right now.”

“What happened, Dean?” Cas asked softly.

Dean covered Castiel’s hand with his and spoke slowly.

“When I was under the djinn’s spell…I thought it was real. I couldn’t tell the difference and we were…we were happy.” Dean turned away and leaned down over the engine, his hands gripping the edge of the car. “You—he,” Dean corrected himself, shutting his eyes against the memory of them in the club. “He gave me something I didn’t even know I wanted.”

Cas was silent, waiting patiently for Dean to continue. Dean didn’t say anything more for a long minute. He fought against the emotion rising in his chest, at the pain of the loss of what he had found—and which had turned out to be a lie.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden moisture clouding them.

“Shit.”

He couldn’t say it.

“Whatever happened, I will not judge you for it,” Castiel said. He placed a hand at Dean’s back and leaned over his shoulder.

“We went to a club,” Dean forced out, “A gay club. We went in, and this guy came on to me, and a bunch of guys were harassing us so I—I brought out these rings. It was just for show, you know? To keep the guys off us, but you—he took it so goddamn _seriously_.” Dean swallowed painfully and forged ahead, squeezing his eyes shut for a brief moment. “I thought it was a dream, and then when we woke up together I figured you had come back to the motel, but you—he—still had the ring on the next morning. And then later we went out and he said—you said—”

Dean covered his face with his hand, his shoulders shaking under the weight of his loss.

Castiel pulled him into a strong embrace, one hand cradling the back of Dean’s head, the other pressed into the middle of his back, behind his heart.

“I told you I loved you, didn’t I?” Castiel guessed.

Dean said nothing, refusing to admit it out loud. Castiel gave a little sigh.

“Dean, all the djinn’s spell did was to show you the truth behind your desire,” Cas said.

“I know, Cas—I know how the fucking thing works,” Dean replied scathingly.

“There is something else you should know,” Cas said.

Dean went rigid in his arms.

“What, Cas?”

Cas played with the short strands of Dean’s hair, silent for a long moment until he felt Dean relax a little at his touch. Then he pulled back and took Dean’s face in his hands.

“I heard you, Dean. When you were under the djinn’s spell. I could hear your spirit calling out to me just as it does when I come to you in your dreams.” Cas smiled at him then—rare, and soft, and beautiful. “Dean, what do you think it says?” Castiel asked him.

Dean blinked and pulled away from him, placing a hand in the middle of Cas’s chest.

“I—I don’t—” he started to say.

“Why do you think I answer when you call?” Cas continued.

Dean sucked in a breath.

“What are you saying, Cas?” Dean asked him.

“What you already know to be true,” Castiel replied softly. “I love you, Dean.”

Dean stared into bottomless blue eyes. His breath was trapped in his chest, but the choking sense of loss he’d felt since waking from the djinn’s spell was starting to loosen.

“I-I love you too, Cas,” Dean replied in an outrush of breath. “I’m sorry for—well, for everything, and I’m ready to give this a try if…if you’ll still have me.”

Cas’s answer was to lean in and kissed him, soft and slow and full of feeling.

It was different, somehow. Different from the kisses they’d shared in his dreams, like there was a missing piece to the puzzle or an added dimension to the intimacy of their lips and bodies pressed together.

 _Real._ Dean decided. It felt _real_.

When they pulled apart a long minute later, Dean spent an even longer minute trying to get a grip on his stuttering heart.

“Wow, I…that was…” Dean laughed a little nervously. “That was pretty fucking amazing,” he finished. It really didn’t do the kiss justice, but then he was more known for his actions than his words.

Speaking of…

Dean reached over the hood of the car to the piston he had been working on earlier. His fingers worked at the grooves, at the thin band of metal that fit snug against the worn steel. It came loose and Dean twisted it around in his fingers, looping the thin metal around itself a couple of times.

“I, uh…” he fiddled with the scrap piece of metal. “I…I want you to know it wasn’t you, Cas,” Dean said, swallowing hard, “It was never you. I was just afraid of fucking things up.”

“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas said, “I understood your misgivings.”

“No, it isn’t,” Dean argued, “The truth is I’ve never done anything for real.” His eyes as he looked up at Castiel were wide and unguarded. “Not like—not like this.”

“Neither have I,” Castiel replied simply.

“Yeah, but you’re—you seem so sure about everything. I’m still fucking terrified this is all going to blow up in our faces,” Dean said. He glanced down at the makeshift band between his fingers “But I’m…I’m done letting that stop me.”

He felt a blush rise to his face.

“Will you be mine, Cas?” Dean asked softly. Uncertainty flickered in his wide, green eyes. “For real this time?”

Castiel’s answer was to lean in for another slow, tender kiss.

Dean smiled and laughed a little breathlessly when he pulled away.

“Is that a yes?” he asked. Because he needed to hear Cas say it.

“Yes, Dean,” Cas said, “I am yours. I was yours from the beginning.”

Dean took his hand and slipped the makeshift ring around his finger.

“I, uh…I know it’s not the real thing…” Dean twisted the thin ring of wire into the groove behind Castiel’s knuckle. “It’s just until we can get something else.”

“I don’t mind if this piece of us isn’t real,” Cas said, fingers closing around Dean’s hand. “The ring is perfect, Dean. It is…you.”

Dean blushed a little, looking away.

“You should know I would have waited for you,” Cas continued, tugging at his hand, “As long as it took.”

“Shit, Cas…”

Dean’s breath hitched, and he glanced up again, the emotions churning within him overwhelming and making him a little light-headed.

“Please tell me I’m not dreaming again,” he said breathlessly, “Because if I am I—I seriously don’t think I could handle it.”

Cas raised a hand to his cheek—the one with the piston ring—and touched their foreheads together.

“You are not dreaming,” Castiel replied. The angel took a long breath, as if tasting the air between them. “I would know it if we were. You feel different to me in the real world, Dean,” he said, “It is why I could not be satisfied with our dreams alone.”

“So do you, Cas,” Dean whispered. He leaned in a little to capture Cas’s lips in a soft, chaste kiss.

Castiel gripped the back of his neck, bringing him in for a longer, more heated press of lips and tongues and teeth. His breath when he pulled back was ragged and hot against Dean’s face.

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat behind them. Dean leaned around Castiel to find his brother standing in the parking lot with his hands on his hips.

“Glad to see you two are done kissing and making up,” Sam said, looking pretty cheeky considering _he_ was the one who interrupted them. “ _Now_ can we celebrate? I’m starving and could really go for a steak.”

Dean laughed and pulled away from Cas. He grabbed his tools out of the way and then lowered the hood of the car.

“Sounds good to me,” he said. He turned to Cas with a brightness in his eyes that felt like it hadn’t been there for days. “Wait until you try _steak_ ,” Dean told him.

They hopped in the car and headed to the diner. Dean cranked the music. Jeff Healy’s _Angel Eyes_ came on over the radio. Dean looked up into the rear view, catching a pair of cool, blue orbs filled with devotion. He gripped the steering wheel and drove, beaming like an idiot.

This was better than a dream, he decided.

Much, much better.

* * *

_Softly as quiet water,_

_One finger touched my cheek;_

_[His] face like gracious moonlight --_

_I might not move nor speak._

_I only saw that beauty,_

_I only felt that form_

_There, in the silken darkness --_

_God wot my heart was warm!_

_…_

_Love is not delicate toying,_

_A slim and shimmering mesh;_

_It is two souls wrenched into one,_

_Two bodies made one flesh._

**Author's Note:**

> A/n: 
> 
> OKAY so a lot of this was ridiculously cheesy but after two parts angst and three parts smut I couldn’t help myself. :3
> 
> I feel like I should apologize for the gargantuan plot twist. Ehe. ^___^;; I REALLY hope it wasn’t too obvious. I’ve been foreshadowing this since part 5. The poem I chose for this is about a Genie (and opium? Kinda fitting considering Dean is addicted to his dreams…) I tried to throw in a couple subtle hints throughout. Can you catch ‘em all? (Those that do get steak. Or pie. Your choice.) XD 
> 
> I know the whole djinn plot has been used and abused but it made perfect sense for this work as a whole so forgive me for using it again.
> 
> Finding the right lyrics for Dean’s toast in the beginning was a bitch. I ended up with Aerosmith’s “Until We Turn Out the Lights”. It was really hard picking something because Dean’s music isn’t what you would call…romantic, and he’s not really romantic so it had to be off-key romance and also make sense in the context of the ‘fake-marriage’ (GAH). The line grew on me though, and it ended up becoming the key theme for this piece for which I’m satisfied. 
> 
> The other theme I toyed with here is that of separating fantasy from reality—and the way you can build a person up in your mind and fall in love with an idealized version of them. The problem with idealized love is that it isn’t real, and sometimes the person can disappoint you. It’s a little different in Dean’s case, but his fear of real life disappointing him seemed to fit.
> 
> The line Dream-Sam tells Dean when he comes out is pretty much word for word what my brother said to me. I was drinking a gin and tonic at the time and was so shocked it nearly squirted out my nose. It happened as I was writing this and it was one of life’s little gems that I just had to use, especially because of the whole gin/djinn word play. XD 
> 
> Jeff Healey is a visually impaired Canadian rock singer/guitar player from the 80s. I feel like Dean would know who he is. His hit song “Angel Eyes” is SCARILY fitting considering I wrote the majority of this before deciding to reference him. Check him out, the guy’s a genius at guitar.
> 
> The way Dean ‘proposes’ to Cas is actually a variation of the way my stepdad proposed to my mom. It’s a sweet family story and I figured… Dean’s a car guy, why not? 
> 
> If anyone can guess the inspiration behind the club setting (And the identity of the hottie that comes on to Dean in the beginning) I will dedicate the crossover I’ve been writing in your name. ;)
> 
> WOW a lot of behind-the-scenes shit happened here. I’ve got one more in me after this. :D


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